No Joke
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: The Joker is suffering from insomnia, thanks to a series of nightmares involving romantic encounters with Batman. Harley Quinn tries to help him analyze and banish his dreams using both her psychiatric and feminine skills. Suggested by and dedicated to AuroraB for the constant support, encouragement, and incredibly insightful reviews. Enjoy! :-)
1. Chapter 1

**No Joke**

It was a dimly-lit warehouse, a huge room shrouded in shadow with only a tiny lightbulb flickering over the rickety chair. The room contained one occupant, a man in a bat costume, who groaned as he opened his eyes, regaining consciousness. He found his hands were tied to the back of the chair and peered around in the darkness, trying to get some clue as to what was going on.

"Wakey wakey, Bats!" chuckled a voice he recognized, as an all too familiar figure stepped into the light in front of him.

"Joker," he growled. "What twisted game is it now?"

"Oh, no game, Batsy," he replied, grinning. "No tricks, no jokes, no gags this time. Just me and you. Alone and helpless. I've been waiting for this moment a long time."

"And so what are you going to do to me?" he demanded.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," he said, smiling. He suddenly seized his face in his hands and thrust his mouth upon his in a kiss of intense passion, a kiss which Batman returned, breaking out of his ropes and pulling Joker down to him, and then…

Joker suddenly woke up screaming, sitting bolt upright in bed and startling Harley awake. "Puddin'?" she cried, immediately concerned and hugging him tightly. "Puddin', what is it? What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare, baby?"

Joker couldn't respond for a moment, panting in horror. "It's ok, puddin', your Harley girl is here with you," she murmured, planting kisses all over his face. "Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing can hurt you with your devoted Harley around."

"Get off, Harley!" he shouted, shoving her away abruptly. Then he just as suddenly seized her and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her ardently. It wasn't anything like in the dream, thank goodness. This felt normal and natural, not weird and wrong, which his conscious mind assured him the dream kiss had been. It hadn't seemed that way in the dream though, which was the disturbing part.

"Oh…wow, Mr. J!" breathed Harley, beaming in delight when he released her at last. "I kinda wish you had nightmares more often!"

She tried to kiss him again, but he pushed her away. "That's enough, you greedy brat!" he snarled, lying back down.

It had been enough, enough to confirm that he was still in his right mind, or at least, as right as his mind ever was. It was enough to confirm that his conscious feelings and urges, however rare they were, were still for an objectively attractive young woman, and not for a man in a bat costume. That was a relief – he didn't want things to be awkward between him and the Bat. He hated how stupid dreams were sometimes, how they didn't make any sense but still intruded on reality and made things seem funny. And not good funny.

He felt Harley's arms come about him. "You wanna tell me about your dream, puddin'?" she breathed into his ear.

"No," he snapped. "Just go back to sleep, you dumb blonde."

"Sounded pretty scary though, puddin'," she murmured. "You might not be able to go back to sleep for a while, huh? Might have to find something else to do in bed, won't ya, Mr. J? How about your Harley girl?"

She had put her leg over him and was rubbing against him, kissing the back of his neck. Her arm slid down to touch him, but he shoved her away again. "I said go to sleep!" he shouted.

She whined. "Oh, puddin', why do you have to tease me like this?" she snapped. "It ain't funny! It's just mean!"

"I'm not in the mood, Harley!" he shouted.

"Well, I'm trying to get you in the mood!" she yelled. "Or can't you read my signals?! I don't think I'm a very subtle dame, Mr. J!"

"No, you sure as hell ain't!" he shouted. "And you ain't very attractive to me right now, you whiny brat!"

"Then why did you just kiss me like that?" she demanded.

"Never mind!" he snapped. "Just go to sleep!"

Harley whined again, rolling over. They lay in silence for some minutes, before Harley sighed deeply. Joker tried to ignore it and fall asleep, but a few minutes later, she sighed and whined again.

"Shut up!" he shouted, turning over and hitting her.

"I can't help it, puddin'!" she retorted. "I'm all revved up now with nothing to oil my gears! Not unless my big, strong mechanic wants to do it," she murmured, snuggling against him again. "C'mon, puddin', please?"

"I've said not tonight, you greedy brat!" he shouted.

"But I need it, puddin'!" she whined. "Oh please, please, please, please, please, please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Go…to…sleep…now…or…I'll…break…your…goddamn…face," he hissed, seizing her chin and enunciating every word. He rolled over again and Harley whined.

"Oh, why did you have to threaten me, Mr. J?" she sighed. "That only made it worse!"

She continued to make whining noises as Joker pulled the pillow over his head, trying to drown her out. She suddenly sat up at last.

"Fine. I was saving it for Valentine's Day, but you've left me no choice. I've got something that'll excite you, Mr. J!" she exclaimed, leaping from bed and rushing out of the room.

Joker sighed, sitting up. At this point it might be easier just to do what she wanted and get it over with. While he didn't like Harley thinking she could blackmail him like this, at least it would let him get back to sleep fairly quickly. And it would make him forget about his dream. He couldn't focus on anything other than Harley during the act – she was incredibly vocal. He was all ready to welcome her back to bed with open arms, when suddenly music started playing and Harley reappeared in the doorway, dressed in a Batman costume, which she proceeded to slowly strip off in time to the music, smiling enticingly at him.

Joker stared at her in disbelief and horror. That quickly turned to rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he shouted, jumping up from bed and putting his fist through the stereo, stopping the music and Harley in the middle of her striptease.

"I thought you'd enjoy it, puddin'!" she exclaimed, surprised.

"And why would I enjoy that?!" he demanded, seizing her by her pigtails. "What are you trying to say about me and Bats?!"

"Nothing, puddin'!" replied Harley, genuinely shocked. "I just thought you'd find it funny! It is funny, ain't it, Mr. J?"

"No, it ain't!" he shouted.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Cause it ain't!" he shouted.

"Aw, Mr. J, how am I ever supposed to be funny if you don't tell me how?!" she shouted, stamping her foot.

"Look, just take that stupid mask off!" he shouted, ripping it off her face.

"Hey! That was the big finale!" she shrieked. "Why'd you ruin it, you big jerk?!"

She kicked him in the shins and he slapped her hard across the face. They were in a fight in seconds, and when Joker finally stopped punching her, Harley gazed up at him hopefully. "You in the mood yet, Mr. J?" she murmured.

He didn't respond, but grabbed his pillow and a blanket and left the room, heading into the living room and tossing them on the sofa. He then slammed the door in Harley's face, locking it.

She knocked frantically. "Mr. J! Mr. J! Please, puddin', I need it!"

She started sobbing, and Joker rolled over on the sofa, trying to ignore her. He could only hope when he finally got to sleep at last, he wouldn't have any more disturbing dreams. They weren't funny.


	2. Chapter 2

His hopes were disappointed. He woke up twice more during the course of the night because of similar nightmares, so that when dawn finally came, he resigned himself to sleeplessness and went to go make coffee.

He opened the door and Harley, who had fallen asleep leaning against it, suddenly fell into the room. "Oh…morning, puddin'," she murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "What am I doing on the floor?"

She looked down and noticed she was wearing the remains of the Batman costume. "Oh yeah, you didn't like your Valentine's Day present," she muttered, picking herself up and glaring at him. "I hope you're in a better mood this morning."

He ignored her and headed to the kitchen, annoyed at being reminded of Batman again. She followed him. "You in a better mood this morning, puddin'?" she pressed, draping herself over his shoulders. "In the mood for a little playtime, maybe?"

"Absolutely not," he retorted. "Just go get dressed, Harley."

She sighed. "What's the matter with you, Mr. J?" she demanded. "You're not your usual cheerful self! You're acting all funny, and not good funny. Is this all because of some stupid dream? What was it anyway?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Harley," he muttered. "Don't you have something useful to do this morning?"

"Just my workout, like every morning," she replied.

"Yeah, well go do it," he snapped. "I wanna be alone."

She looked hurt, but nodded. "Ok, puddin', whatever you want," she murmured, heading off to go get changed.

He sighed, putting his head in his hands. He didn't know why this was happening. Consciously his feelings toward the Bat were the perfectly natural and normal ones of a guy towards his nemesis. He wasn't insecure or anything – that's not why this bothered him, not really. He just wished he could get a decent night's sleep without being plagued by nightmares. And he didn't want every mention of the Bat to remind him of the disturbing nature of his dreams. He was a pretty big part of his life - he didn't want things to feel weird between them.

He took his coffee and headed into the living room, intending to watch some TV. If anything could cheer him up, it was classic _Laurel and Hardy _or _Three Stooges _or something that could make him laugh and forget his nightmares.

He was surprised to find Harley there, wearing a skimpy spandex outfit and hooking something up to the TV. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded. "I thought you were going to go workout!"

"I am," she retorted, turning on the screen. "I got this new game that uses dancing to popular songs as a way to exercise."

"What's wrong with the gym?" he demanded.

"Nothing, grandpa," she retorted. "Just thought this would be more fun. And I need some fun today since I didn't get any last night. Why don't you go workout in the gym?"

He was too tired to argue with her, and it wasn't worth it, so he just growled and headed for their private gym. Among Harley's beams and balance bars was his punching bag, dressed to look like Batman, and this once again brought back dream memories he wanted to suppress. So he started beating it mercilessly, trying to take out all his rage and frustration on it.

He paused at last, dripping sweat, and stared at the mocking, masked face. He didn't feel anything but the deepest loathing for it, even more so since Bats had started to haunt his dreams like this. There was no way he felt anything but hatred for the guy, and of course the feeling of dependency and mutual respect that all nemeses had towards each other. There wasn't anything weird in that. Nothing weird at all.

As he gazed at the mask, _Crazy In Love _suddenly began playing from somewhere. He started, looking around for the source of the noise, and realized it was coming from the living room. He entered to see Harley strutting around the room, apparently following some dance routine being portrayed on the screen.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"My workout," she retorted, keeping her eyes fixed on the TV.

"Well, can you change the goddamn song?" he muttered. "It's just awful."

"Why? Too modern for you, Mr. J?" she retorted. "Sorry they don't have the chart hits of the 30s on here for you. But I guess I can find something a little more classic."

She scrolled through the song choices, and selected one. _It's Raining Men _suddenly started playing. Joker watched it for a few seconds, then pulled out his gun and shot the TV screen.

"Hey! I was dancing to that!" shouted Harley, whirling angrily on him.

"You ain't now," he snapped, sitting down on the sofa and shutting his eyes.

Harley went from irritated to concerned in a second. "Aw, Mr. J, you look really tired, puddin'," she murmured, perching on the arm of the couch and stroking back his hair. "Isn't there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"No," he muttered. "Not unless you can cure me of these goddamn nightmares."

Harley was silent. "Y'know, I did used to be a shrink, Mr. J," she murmured. "Maybe if you told me what your dream was about, I could help you analyze it and figure out why you're having it, and maybe that would make it go away."

Joker laughed without humor. "I don't think you'd want to hear about this particular dream, Harley. It's of a rather unsavory nature."

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. J, I'm a big girl," she replied. "And I've been your lover for a long time now. It can't be worse than a lot of the stuff we've done."

Joker sighed. "Please, puddin'," murmured Harley, kissing his cheek. "Let me help."

He nodded slowly. "All right. But you gotta be a real shrink again now, Harley. Doctor/patient confidentiality and all that crap."

"Don't worry, puddin', I haven't forgotten," she replied, beaming. "I'll be back in a sec!"

She returned a few moments later wearing her glasses and lab coat, looking just like she did when they met. "How's this, Mr. J?" she asked, beaming at him.

"Perfect, pooh," he replied, grinning. "You look just like my hot little shrink again."

She giggled, then adopted a straight, stern face. "Please sit down, Mr. Joker," she said, gesturing to the couch.

He smiled at her and lay down. "I've been told you've been having problems with some disturbing dreams lately," continued Harley, reaching into her pocket and taking out a notepad. "Why don't you tell me all about them?"

Joker opened his mouth to begin, but she continued. "Or if you'd rather talk about something else, we can do that too. If you wanted to tell me, for instance, some of the sick thoughts you've been having about your doctor, maybe your doctor could try to cure you of them by acting out your fantasies. You wanna put yourself in my hands, Mr. J?" she murmured, slowly unbuttoning her shirt as she shook out her hair.

"Harley, shrink," he snapped. "Stay in character."

"Sorry, Mr. J, having you on the couch again just takes me back," she murmured, rebuttoning her shirt reluctantly. She put her hair back up, smoothed it, and said, calmly, "Tell me about your dream, Mr. Joker."

"It always takes place in a big warehouse," he said. "Dark, with only one lightbulb hanging from the ceiling."

"Interesting," said Harley, scribbling down notes. "Perhaps symbolizing the illumination of a burning wish or desire long repressed in the shadows of your conscious mind. Please continue."

"Underneath the light is a chair," continued Joker. "Old, rickety, wooden, like the kind they used to have at school."

"We had plastic chairs at my school," interrupted Harley.

"In my day, they had wooden ones," growled Joker.

"In your day," giggled Harley. "Aw, you're so cute, puddin'! My adorable little throwback!" she said, ruffling his hair fondly.

"Shrink, Harley!" he reminded her, fixing his hair and glaring at her.

"Yeah, yeah, wooden chair, got it, Mr. J," she muttered, scribbling it down.

"There's a guy tied to a chair. It's Batman," he continued.

"B-man," she wrote. "Sounds like a good setup so far, puddin'. Bats helpless and at your mercy. How can that be a bad dream?"

"That's not the bad part," he retorted. "So then I appear, and I'm standing in front of him…"

"All handsome and powerful," murmured Harley, gazing at him adoringly.

"And he asks what I'm going to do him," continued Joker, trying to ignore her.

"Something really dark and depraved, I bet," murmured Harley, her eyes shining. "Something really violent and horrible, maybe beat his face into a bloody pulp, maybe slice off sheets of his skin, maybe pound his head repeatedly into a wall until his brains ooze out onto the floor…oh, Mr. J!" she cried, suddenly climbing on top of him. "Oh, c'mon, Mr. J, tell me!" she gasped, kissing his face passionately. "Tell me and then take me hard, puddin'!"

"Get off, Harley!" he shouted, shoving her away. "Just cool it and sit down! Act like a goddamn shrink, will ya?"

"Sorry, puddin'," she gasped, slowly climbing off him and returning to her chair. "Thinking about the violence, it was just really hot, you know what it does to me…I won't lose control again, I promise. I remember how to be a professional."

She smoothed her hair back again, picked up her notepad, and said, "Please continue, Mr. Joker."

"So Bats asks what I'm going to do to him," continued Joker. "And I say something I should have done a long time ago. And then…"

He paused, hesitating, wondering how she would react. She just looked back at him with those adoring, encouraging, trusting, big blue eyes. "And then?" she prompted.

"And then…I kiss him," he said.

She stared back at him. "You what?"

"I kiss him," he repeated. "Like a real, proper, full-on kiss. And he returns it. And then…"

"And then what?" demanded Harley, fury flashing into her eyes.

"And then it…escalates," he muttered. "And then I wake up. So what's wrong with me, Doc?"

She glared at him. "What's wrong with you?" she repeated, standing up suddenly. "What's wrong is that you've got the hots for Batman! That's sick, Mr. J! I mean, I knew you were obsessed with him, but I didn't think in that way! I was ok with it when I thought it was just a nemesis thing, but if you've been dreaming about him like that…"

"Not intentionally, baby, blame that thing, y'know, that shrink thing, the sub-basement," he replied.

She looked at him. "Are you trying to tell me your subconscious is in love with Batman?" she demanded.

"I dunno, Harley, you're the shrink here!" he snapped. "Anyway, I don't really care what the reason is, just tell me how to fix it! Didn't they tell you how to cure this kinda stuff in shrink school?"

"What, how to stop your boyfriend having wet dreams about his nemesis? Nah, they didn't really cover that one in college!" she snapped. "I don't understand, Mr. J! Don't you find me hot anymore?"

"Of course I do, pumpkin," he replied, hugging her. "I mean, right here, right now, of course I don't want Bats. I can't help what I dream about though, can I? I don't want to think that way about Batsy, but there's nothing I can do to control it in my dreams. That's the problem."

She slapped him hard across the face. "You jerk!" she shrieked. "I can't believe you could do this to me! Cheating on me with Batman in your head! Is that why you haven't been wanting to rev me up?! Because you wanna climb the Batpole instead?!"

"I don't want Batman, Harley!" he shouted.

"That ain't what your brain is saying though, is it?!" she demanded. "Y'know that thing I wrote about this dream symbolizing your burning wish or deepest desire? Well, that's my diagnosis, you disgusting creep! If this gorgeous specimen of womanhood ain't good enough for you, why don't you just go screw the Bat?!"

"Harley, you're overreacting!" he shouted. "It's just a stupid dream! It probably don't mean nothing, but I don't wanna have it anymore! I thought you could help, but I can see you're as crap a psychiatrist as you are everything else! No wonder you had to give up your career – you wouldn't have lasted as a shrink, and you ain't gonna last as my girlfriend if you don't shape up and stop talking to me like that, you stupid whore!"

She punched him in the face, and another fight started. This time Harley was the victor, knocking Joker to the ground and putting her foot against his throat. She then seized him by the collar and dragged him up toward her. "Listen to me very carefully, Mr. J," she hissed, her eyes burning. "I've become very attached to you, see, and I ain't gonna let you go just because the Bat's convinced you to bat for the other team!"

"Liking the pun, baby!" he giggled.

"Shut up, Mr. J!" she growled. The phone rang at that moment, and Harley grudgingly released him, still glaring at him as she went to pick it up. "What?!" she snapped. "Oh, hi, Red. Now's not a good time for a chat – I'm kinda busy. Yeah. Yeah, aw, that's too bad. Well, we'll talk about it later. I'll come over tomorrow. I'm just a little preoccupied right now trying to cure my boyfriend's graphic sexual dreams about…"

Joker ripped out his gun and pointed it at her face. She glared down the barrel of the gun at him. "Hang on," she muttered, putting her hand over the receiver.

"You say one more word and you're dead, you little bitch!" he hissed.

"You wouldn't dare shoot me, Mr. J," she snapped.

"You give me one good reason why I shouldn't!" he retorted.

"Cause if you do, you won't have anyone who knows how to stop these dreams of yours. You'll just be haunted by these creepy fanatasies forever and ever. You don't want that to happen, do ya, Mr. J? So just put down the gun now."

He growled but lowered it. Harley uncovered the receiver. "Red? Yeah, I'm gonna have to call you back. Yeah. Yeah, talk to you later. Yeah, buh bye. About Batman," she finished quickly, hanging up the phone.

He held up the gun again. "Aw, put it away, Mr. J, the damage's been done," she retorted. "Anyway, you deserve it. But we're even now – you've humiliated me by cheating on me in your dreams, and I've humiliated you by telling Red about it. So there's no reason to fight anymore!" she exclaimed, rushing into his arms and kissing him tenderly. "I love you, Mr. J," she breathed, beaming at him.

"Aw, Harley," he sighed, kissing her. "I love ya too, kid. Now what do you think we should do to cure Daddy of these dreams, pooh bear?" he asked, pulling her down onto his lap.

"Hmm," she said, pretending to think. "Maybe some time on the couch with his sexy little shrink would help?"

"I know what you want to do, Harley, but I want to do something that would be effective," he retorted.

"How do you know it won't be effective until you try it, puddin'?" she breathed. "Surely you should try anything that might help, even a tiny bit, huh, Mr. J? It's what your doctor would prescribe," she murmured, untying his bowtie and unbuttoning his shirt.

He grinned at her. "Always do what the doctor orders," he murmured, pushing her down on the sofa. "Time for your shot, Doc. This one is gonna hurt," he chuckled.

Harley thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the day, and whatever reservations she had had about her man's sexual orientation were thoroughly and completely banished by the end of it. This dream, whatever it was, wasn't a secret revelation that he was in love with Batman. She didn't know what it was, aside from weird and creepy, but she hoped she had given Mr. J the medicine he needed to make it go away.


	3. Chapter 3

Her hopes were disappointed. Joker woke up in the middle of the night again. And again. And again. It seemed to be a never-ending series of dreams, one that neither Joker nor Harley could do anything about. But it was killing Harley to see him suffer like this, to watch him grow more and more tired and exhausted. He didn't sleep, he didn't work, he didn't smile, he didn't do anything but sit in front of the replacement TV and watch old comedies until his eyes were red, staring and fixated, on the screen. But he never laughed.

One night, Harley stood in her pajamas by the door to the living room, watching him watching _Abbott and Costello_. "Puddin'? You coming to bed?" she asked gently.

"Nah," he murmured. "No point. Won't sleep. Not tired anyway."

She could tell that was obviously untrue. "Puddin', it breaks my heart to see you like this," she whispered, going over to him and embracing him tightly. "There must be something I can do to help you."

"Don't think so," he retorted. "Think I'm going to be driven crazy by those dreams. Ain't that something, pooh? Something that can drive me crazy. Me, the Joker! What a gag!"

He tried to laugh, but it faded quickly. "Puddin', don't talk like that," she whispered, kissing him. "Your Harley girl will help you. There has to be a way I can."

"Wish you could, pooh bear," he replied, smiling humorlessly at her. "I can't carry on like this. I can't plan any schemes, I can't cause any chaos, and I'm too tired for mayhem. This could be the end of the Joker, pumpkin. Dream Bats might do what real Bats could never do. Beat me."

He chuckled again, briefly, but his smile dropped again as he focused back on the TV. Harley stared at him in horror, tears coming to her eyes. Then she kissed him firmly. "I'm going to save you puddin'. I promise."

She returned to their bedroom, dressing in her regular costume. She wasn't going to stand idly by and let her puddin' suffer a complete mental breakdown. These were desperate times, and they called for desperate measures. The only way to get rid of dreams was to confront them, to face them head on to prove they didn't mean anything, that they were just stupid, silly, random thoughts, which she had always believed. Freud was an idiot. This wasn't some repressed desire, some big insecurity of Mr. J's. And she was going to prove it.

She left the hideout and drove the car out into the streets of Gotham, pulling up at last in front of the Gotham City Police Department. She strode up the steps, pushed open the doors, and went over to the front desk where the night policeman on duty was reading the newspaper.

"May I help you?" he asked, not looking up.

"I'd like to speak to Batman, please," she said. "Do you have a telephone number or an address I can contact him at? It's an emergency."

"Yeah, nice joke, lady," he retorted, keeping his eyes on the paper. "Why don't you stop wasting police time and beat it?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Harley demanded, furiously.

The policeman looked up and started. "Holy shi…" he began.

"Hey! Watch your language in front of a lady!" snapped Harley.

"You're…you're…you're…the Joker's bitch!" he gasped.

Harley slapped him across the face. "What did I just say about language?" she shouted. "Ain't you got any manners? Guess that's why you're here working the graveyard shift, 'cause you ain't got no social skills. Now look, lamebrain, I can't waste my time talking with losers like you – I need to find the Bat. Is there anyone on duty at the moment who can help me with that? Montoya? Bullock? Gordon? One of 'em's got to be here! Or I guess I can always hold you hostage and take you up to the roof and have you light the Batsignal, huh?"

The policeman seized the phone and quickly dialled a number. "Commissioner, I think you and Bullock had better come to the front desk right away," he gasped.

A few moments later, Commissioner Gordon and Detective Harvey Bullock appeared in the foyer, both of them clearly astonished when they saw Harley. Bullock recovered himself first.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Laughing Boy's little slut," he said, smirking at her. "Whatcha doing here, sweetheart? Had enough of the clown and looking to pick up a real man?"

"In your dreams, Harvey," retorted Harley. "I need to talk to Bats."

"Why?" he retorted.

"That ain't none of your business," she snapped.

"Touchy," he replied. "You pregnant or something?"

"Yeah, that's it, Harv," she said, rolling her eyes. "And Bats is the father. It's a real soap opera. So why don't you just lemme see him and stop asking stupid questions? But I forget, that's your job, ain't it?"

"You want me to arrest her, Comish?" asked Bullock, turning to Gordon.

"You can try, Harvey!" laughed Harley. "I wouldn't. But you look like you can use a good workout. Or at least stand to lay off the donuts."

Bullock started forward, but Gordon lay a hand on his arm. He studied Harley for a few moments, then nodded. "This way," he said, beckoning her forward.

"Aw, gee, thanks, Comish, you're a real pal," said Harley, beaming as she followed him down the corridor. "How's the family doing? You got any left that Mr. J hasn't killed or maimed?"

Gordon ignored her, opening the door to an interview room and gesturing inside. "Wait here with Bullock."

They entered and Gordon shut the door, leaving them alone. "You wanna cigar, dollface?" asked Bullock, reaching into his jacket.

"Sure," she said, taking the one he offered. He lit it for her and they sat down at opposite ends of the room, glaring at each other.

They sat in silence for what seemed like ages. "Gotta say, I like a dame with a cigar," Bullock said at last. "Ain't nothing hotter than a babe who smokes."

Harley grinned at him. "You know what they say about a man with a cigar, doncha, Harvey?" she murmured, studying it. "They say he's compensating for something. Mind you, that ain't always true. Mr. J sometimes smokes cigars, and he ain't got nothing to be ashamed of in that department." She wrapped her tongue around the cigar, licking it suggestively as she grinned at him. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, huh, Harv?" she murmured, smiling.

He was trying to find some response when the door opened and Commissioner Gordon re-entered, accompanied by Batman. "Harvey, how many times have I said no smoking in the interview rooms?" demanded Gordon.

"Sorry, Comish," muttered Bullock, stamping out his cigar.

"Miss Quinn, I'm afraid I must insist," said Gordon, turning to her.

Harley shrugged and handed him the cigar. "It's a filthy habit anyway, ain't it, Harvey?" she asked, grinning.

"Leave us," said Batman, firmly.

"Yeah, Bats and I need complete privacy," snapped Harley. "Stay out of the room behind the mirror, get me?"

Gordon nodded and gestured for Bullock to follow him. They left the room, leaving Harley alone with Batman.

"What's this about, Quinn?" demanded Batman.

"It's me, Bats," she retorted. "So what do you think it's about? Mr. J, of course. He needs your help."

Batman looked at her. "He needs my help?" he repeated.

"Yeah. You must have noticed he ain't been very active lately," said Harley. "You've probably been pretty bored without him, huh?"

"There are enough lunatics running around in this city to keep me busy," retorted Batman. "Your friend Poison Ivy attacked a chemical lab the other day with exploding pumpkins."

"Yeah, she mentioned you foiled her plan," said Harley, nodding. "Didn't figure it was very well thought out though. And pumpkins, seriously? It's the middle of February. Halloween is ages away. Can't tell Red these things though – she's pretty touchy."

"What's wrong with Joker?" asked Batman.

"He keeps having these dreams," replied Harley. "Dreams of an erotic nature. Involving you."

Batman's mask couldn't conceal his astonishment and disgust. "He…what?" he stammered.

"Don't worry, they don't mean anything funny," she said, reassuringly. "Mr. J's all man, and he's only into his Harley girl. He's been into her quite a few times recently, in fact. But he hasn't been sleeping well since the dreams started. He's tired all the time. Can't work. Don't laugh. It ain't funny, Bats, not funny at all. He's in real pain. He's suffering, and you don't like to see anyone suffer, do ya? Heroes don't leave people to hurt like that, not when there's something they can do about it."

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" asked Batman.

"Make his dream come true," she replied. "Fulfill his fantasy. Make him confront it in reality. That's the only way he can be rid of it."

"I'm…sorry?" stammered Batman, slowly. "You're…asking me…to fulfill Joker's…erotic fantasy?"

"Bats, trust me, he don't want you," retorted Harley. "Nothing is going to happen between you. He just needs to confront this particular situation in real life exactly as it happens in his dream. And make his subconscious realize that what it thinks he wants isn't really what he wants. You get me?"

"No," retorted Batman. "And I'm sorry, Harley, I'd like to help. But I'm not doing this."

"Aw, c'mon, Bats, he'd do it for you!" she exclaimed. "He'd do anything for you! The least you can do is return the favor! What's the point of a nemesis if they can't help each other out once in a while, am I right?"

"There's a line, Harley," retorted Batman. "And this crosses it. Not only does it cross it, it goes so far the other side of it that it loses sight of it in the distance. I'm not doing it, and that's final. Joker will just have to get over this some other way."

Harley sighed. "I was afraid you would say that, Batsy. I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this, but you don't leave me with a choice. This is for you, Mr. J," she whispered.

And she suddenly seized his face in her hands and kissed him, infecting him with the mind-controlling lipstick she had borrowed from Poison Ivy, and which she had applied to her lips before entering the police station. She drew away at last, wiping her lips and making a face. "Don't know why Mr. J dreams about that," she muttered. "Let's go, B-man," she said, standing up.

Under the influence of the chemicals in the lipstick, Batman couldn't resist obeying her. He followed her out of the police station and into her car. "Drive to the docks," she said, sitting in the passenger's seat and propping her legs up on the dashboard. "We need to find an empty warehouse, a lightbulb, and a wooden chair. Sounds like a fun little scavenger hunt, huh, Bats?" she giggled. "And the real fun's still to come!"

Batman was compelled to obey her, despite how much his will rebelled against it. And it had never rebelled against anything stronger in his life. Fun was the last thing he was expecting this to be.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mr. J, I got a surprise for you!" called Harley, skipping into the living room later that night and kissing his cheek.

"Is it a slow and lingering death?" he muttered. "Because that would be a welcome relief."

"Aw, don't talk like that, puddin'!" she exclaimed. "Your Harley girl promised she would make it all better, and she has, Mr. J! Come see!"

He sighed heavily and rose, following Harley out into the car. "Where are we going, pooh?" he asked.

"You'll see, Mr. J," she replied, grinning at him. "Don't wanna spoil the surprise! But it'll make you smile, puddin', I promise!"

"So it is my slow and lingering death?" he asked.

She laughed. "You're such a kidder, Mr. J!" she murmured, kissing him. "I can't wait to see the look on your face!"

They arrived at a warehouse by the docks, where Harley stopped the car and opened the door, gesturing inside. "It's in there, Mr. J," she said.

He entered, and was taken aback. Everything looked exactly the way it had in his dream. The warehouse, the lightbulb, the chair and…Batman tied to it.

"Harley, what is this?" he whispered.

"Just trust me, Mr. J," she murmured. "Just do everything like you do in your dream, puddin'. I promise it'll be ok."

Joker nodded slowly, approaching Batman. "Wakey, wakey, Bats!" he said, forcing a laugh and a smile.

Harley had ordered Batman to repeat the lines exactly as Mr. J had told them to her, and since he was still under the influence of the mind-control lipstick, he could do nothing else. "Joker. What twisted game is it now?"

"Oh, no game, Batsy," Joker said, maintaining his grin. "No tricks, no jokes, no gags this time. Just me and you. Alone and helpless. I've been waiting for this moment a long time."

"And so what are you going to do to me?" asked Batman.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," murmured Joker. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment where Harley's heart pounded against her chest in fear that this wouldn't work. Then Joker suddenly punched Batman hard across the face.

"Do you have any idea what you've put me through these past few days, you bastard?!" shouted Joker, continuing to beat him. "Do you have any idea how I've suffered because of you?! And it wasn't enjoyable suffering either! It wasn't a joke! It wasn't funny!"

He suddenly threw back his head and laughed, hysterically, maniacally. "But it is funny now!" he chuckled. "It is funny again, Bats! Because it's all right, y'see! I'm not in love with you after all! When I have you helpless in my power, the only desire I feel is to beat the crap outta ya! And that's the way it should be! Oh, everything feels right again!"

And he chuckled, continuing to punch and kick Batman as Harley watched, giggling uncontrollably. "Hit him again, puddin'!" she called. "That's it, baby, harder! Ooh, harder, Mr. J!" she shrieked, clapping her hands in excitement. "Make him bleed everywhere!"

"Aw, Bats, you're such a great guy!" exclaimed Joker, hugging him suddenly. "Such a sport to do all this for me! I do love ya, y'know, I really do! You're just a knockout!"

He punched him a final time, knocking him unconscious. Joker laughed uncontrollably at his joke, then turned to Harley, beaming and holding out his arms. "Come to Poppa, sweets!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, Mr. J!" shrieked Harley, leaping into his arms. "I'm so glad you're back to your old, happy self!"

"Thanks to you, my sexy little shrink," he muttered, kissing her. "Daddy wants to show you how grateful he is."

"Oh, Mr. J," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Later," he finished, shoving her away. "Got too much to do tonight, pooh, got a lotta schemes to catch up on! I've fallen behind! C'mon, baby, let's go home so I can get to work!"

"What about Bats, Mr. J?" she asked, turning to look at him. "Think he's gonna be ok?"

"Oh yeah, he'll be fine," replied Joker, waving his hand. "He's Batman. He's always fine."

"We might stop off at the GCPD on the way home and tell them where he is," said Harley. "It's the least we can do after he helped you out like this."

Joker chuckled. "Good idea, pooh! I'm sure we can get up to a lotta fun there!"

"You got any exploding cigars for Bullock? He likes his cigars," said Harley as they walked, hand in hand, out of the warehouse.

"I'm sure I have some here somewhere," he said, feeling around his suit. He pulled one out triumphantly. "Smoking really will be the death of him, won't it, pooh bear?" he chuckled.

Harley kissed him. "I missed your jokes, puddin'," she breathed.

He patted her head affectionately. "Well, you've got the old Joker back now, toots, and he's better than ever! Now let's go spread some laughter!"

Harley beamed at him as they got into the car and drove off. He was back. Her Mr. J was back. Her precious, perfect puddin', her gorgeous, gleeful maniac. Her Joker. Hers, and no one else's. It really was something to smile about.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Poison Ivy knocked on the door to Joker and Harley's hideout. "Door's open!" called Harley from inside.

Ivy entered, and walked down the hall to the tune of _Barbie Girl, _which she found rather disturbing. She entered the living room to see that the song was coming from the TV, where two figures on the screen were dancing to it, mirrored by two figures in front of the television. Well, mirrored wasn't quite the right word – Harley was doing a pretty good job following along, but Joker was mostly out of step and time, and he looked at the screen in something like bafflement mixed with annoyance.

"You're the one on the left, puddin', like I keep saying," Harley reminded him. "Watch the left-hand side of the screen."

"My left or the TV's left?" he demanded.

"You're the guy one, Mr. J," she snapped. "The TV's left, of course! Now you gotta skip, puddin', get ready…"

"I ain't skipping," he growled, walking away from the TV. "This ain't fun, Harley."

"Aw, c'mon, puddin', you were saying it was kinda enjoyable just before Red got here," retorted Harley, pausing the game.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't want Pammie to get the wrong impression of me," he retorted.

"It's too late, J, Harley told me about you and Batman," replied Ivy, grinning. "Any more midnight blue movies involving the two of you?"

"Nope," he replied, beaming. "I'm all cured, Pammie! Turned out all I needed to do was beat the crap outta the Bat, and I'm all back to normal! Or at least, back to sleeping without dreams, which is as normal as I ever get!" he chuckled.

"Well, you know what they say," replied Ivy, smiling. "A dream is a wish your heart makes."

"No, it ain't," snapped Harley. "It's just a bunch of random, crazy images. Or one of my wishes is to be chased by a hive of bees through my old high school with the Penguin as my history teacher having to throw a jar of honey at them which somehow makes them stop. No way any of that would work in real life, and it's no way it means anything. Dreams are just stupid."

"Whatever you say, Harley," replied Ivy. "I prefer to think J's pining over Batman, and nothing can convince me otherwise."

"Sounds like a challenge to me, Pammie," said Joker, grinning. "Harley, get over here. Daddy J wants to rev you up right now."

"No, no, it's ok, I believe you," said Ivy quickly, as Harley squeaked happily and rushed into his arms. "I've actually just come to get my lipstick back. Did it prove useful in the end?"

"Oh yeah, Red, couldn't have done it without it," replied Harley. "It's just in the bedroom – I'll go get it." She was about to run off when she turned to Joker. "Wanna help me find it quickie…I mean, quickly, puddin'?" she murmured.

"Gotta watch those Freudian slips, Harley," he replied, grinning. "We'll be back in a second, Pammie."

They rushed off, giggling, and Ivy sighed, looking around the room. She unplugged the gamestation and turned on the TV to watch some news.

"…the damage from the attack on the Gotham City Police Department last night by the Joker and his accomplice Harley Quinn. There are reports of at least fifty casualties, with Batman nowhere to be found. Commissioner Gordon has assured us that Batman was away from Gotham City at the time, or would have been there to protect and defend the station. The idea that the threat of lawlessness can strike at the heart of our justice system is a shocking and disturbing one. Even more disturbing is the idea that our law enforcement officials are unable to do anything about it without help from a caped vigilante. Gordon has confirmed that Batman will be unavailable for the rest of the week, but will be returning shortly to defend Gotham. This city certainly needs him. I'm Vicki Vale, reporting live from…"

"Here it is, Red!" exclaimed Harley, bounding back into the room and handing the lipstick to Ivy.

"Just heard you hit the GCPD last night," said Ivy, taking it and replacing it in her bosom. "That must have been fun."

"Oh yeah, it was a laugh riot!" giggled Harley. "And no Bats there to make things difficult! Mr. J had beaten him senseless in a warehouse. Don't think he'll be able to fight people for a little while now."

"So he's out of action at the moment," said Ivy, her eyes suddenly lighting up. "Sounds like a great opportunity to finish off that chemical plant. I'll need to rig up some more pumpkins, of course, but that shouldn't be too difficult."

"Sure Red, knock yourself out," replied Harley.

"Can I use your bathroom before I go?" asked Ivy.

"Sure Red," she repeated. "It's just through the bedroom."

She escorted Ivy into their room, where Joker was examining Harley's Batman costume. "Y'know, pumpkin, this whole stripping as Batman thing wasn't funny when I was having my dreams, but you're right about it being a funny idea now that we've proven the whole him and me thing is just a joke. Maybe tonight my foxy little Caped Crusader could make my Batman fantasy come true, huh, pooh bea…"

He looked up at her and noticed Ivy was standing there, gaping at him. "Or not," he muttered, hiding the costume behind his back.

"Mr. J's all man," snapped Harley quickly, shoving Ivy into the bathroom. "Nothing funny between him and the Bat, nothing funny at all."

"Maybe not to you, Harley," murmured Ivy, grinning. "But there's plenty for the rest of us to laugh at."

**The End**


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